“Hey...mum...I’ve got a Ferrari Spider.”
Nathan bounded up the stairs.
“What’s a Ferrari Spider? I don’t want no
creepy-crawlies in my house!”
“Mum... Oh.....mum........you don’t know what a
Ferrari is?........”
“No! What is it?”.
“It’s a super-car, mum! It’s great! Come and see
it! I’ll take you for a ride! Come on, mum.....come on...”
“I’m doing the cooking. I can’t come now!”
“Just turn the stove off,....... you can do it
later.”
“All right! Okay!
I’ll come. Give me a minute!”
Anna closed the stove, and stepped out, wiping her
hands on her apron.
She was shocked when she saw the shining,
blood-red car with an open top.
“This is an expensive-looking car! Where did you
get it from, eh?”
“ My dream come true! I’m so excited!”
“I asked you where you got it from, didn’t I?”
.“No, mum, no! I haven’t stolen it......if that’s
what you’re thinking.”
“Cause if you have, I will skin you,....I
will....”
“My friend gave it to me”.
“Your friend gave it to you, eh? You sure you are
not lying to me, eh?”
“No mum no. I wouldn’t ever do that. I swear!”
Nathan had to lie!
His father had died (from cancer) ten years ago.
His mother had struggled through the years.
They rented in a high-density area in Sydney.
He was the only child. His friends were rich.
He dreamed of a Ferrari Spider.
What was the quickest way to make big money?
He would borrow for a start, and make the money
grow.
He went to the nearest Westpac branch, and
demanded to see the manager. The receptionist at the counter was not impressed.
She asked him what he wanted. He said:- “Money. I’ve come to borrow some
money”.
She gave him an ugly look, and waved him to the
sofa.
He crossed his legs confidently.
After a while, a smartly-dressed woman, with heavy
make-up, and grey hair, old enough to be his mother, came up to him, introduced
herself politely, and invited him into her cabin.
He felt a wee bit nervous. A vague feeling that
this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought it would.
“Now, what can we do for you, sir?”
“I want to borrow two hundred thousand dollars”.
She winced for the fraction of a second, but kept
a straight face. She was superbly trained.
“Sure. But we lend on security, you know”.
“What’s security?”
She raised her eyebrows. This fellow was too
young.
“People have houses, cars, they pledge as security
for a loan. Do you own a house?”
“Nope, I live with my mum”.
“Well then, let’s see. Do you have an income?”
“Na”.
She was hungry,......and this stupid boy was keeping her from her
lunch.
“Not working?”
“Nah! I just finished school”.
“Well then, you can get a student loan from
government for University.”
“Nope. No way!
I don’t want to go to University. I want
a Ferrari”.
“A Ferrari? Those cost a lot, you know! We don’t
lend money to buy Ferraris.”
“I’ll try elsewhere then”.
He got up abruptly, hot under the collar.
He quickly walked out. He could feel her glaring
at his back.
He went home dejected.
He sat with his head in his hands, feeling very
sorry for himself. He wanted that Ferrari.
He decided to ask one of his very rich friends for
the money. He had tons of it.
That fellow lived in a mansion, with a swimming
pool.
“Hey mate! I want to buy a Ferrari. Can you lend
me the money?”
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars”.
“Fine! That’s no problem. How are you going to
repay it? And when?”
“Well, say, in about a year’s time. I will earn
the money”.
“You going to earn two hundred thousand dollars in
a year? How?”
“I don’t know how! But I will do it”.
“Well then.....let’s see. Let me think........will
you work for me, eh? Do what I say?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll do anything. Just tell me what”.
“Okay. I’ll ring you in a day or two.”
The call did come.
“Sunday morning. Be at the international airport at
9am,... stand just outside the
Air France counter. Take a suitcase
with a few clothes. Someone will come to you. Just do what he says. And,.....
go now, and get me a few passport-sized photos.
You will be
given a passport.”
“But am I going overseas? I’ve got to tell my
mum”.
“Tell her what you want! Just be there. You will
be back in a couple of days. Your trip will be paid for!”
What was he going to tell his mother? Where was he
going? When was he coming back? Why was he going?
He lied that he was going on a short trip overseas
with his friends. She was not too concerned. She had her own problems.
But he did not go with anyone. He went alone. He
was given a return ticket to New
Caledonia, a packet to carry, warned not to open it,
and ordered to hand it over to a person who would collect it from him at the
destination.
It was the first time in his life that he went out
of Australia.
He quite enjoyed it.
He spent the next many months going, all expenses
paid, to different places he had never even heard about. Not to large countries
or big cities.
Always to small airports, with little or no
security.
“Have you driven a Ferrari before?”
“I’ve driven a Holden, mate.”
“Idiot! Don’t you know the difference between a
Ferrari and a Holden? A race-horse and a cart-horse? We will go for a long
drive. Get in”.
On the deserted, desert road, the sleek vehicle
hit speeds of over two hundred kilometres an hour.
He was thrilled.
“Can I drive? Please, mate! Just for a short
while. On the open road.”
They went through small towns, slowing down a bit,
but not enough to go un-noticed by the radar-equipped, black cars, parked in
side streets.
The message travelled ahead of them. The number
and the description of the vehicle were relayed to the national computer.
Fortunately the block where he and his mother
lived had a lock-up garage, and he kept the Ferrari in it for the night. He
could not sleep. He was so excited. He kept admiring it, saying to himself:-
“My dream come true! My dream come true!”.
He could not wait for sun-rise. He took it out
while it was still fairly dark, wanting a fast drive on empty roads.
He did not even notice the flashing lights in the
rear-view mirror, so lost was he in his own thoughts.
“Ah ha, son, nice car! Pretty expensive, eh?”
“Yes, sir”.
“Got a driving licence?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Give me the keys. Just sit quietly while I check
the registration”.
He was scared. Why had he been pulled up? He had
been within the speed limit.
“This car has been registered to some else. Not in
your name. Mind telling me who the owner is?”
He hesitated. He was not sure whether he would be
doing the right thing by telling the officer who the car belonged to. But then
he decided that the officer must already know that, so he did tell him.
“You just drive quietly ahead of me to the address
of the owner. I want to find out whether he gave you permission to take the
car.”
“Yes sir”.
They parked in the driveway, and the uniformed
officer knocked softly on the door. It was opened slightly, and then banged
shut abruptly.
The officer called for back-up. But a loud screech
of tyres from the back of the house proclaimed very clearly that the occupant
or occupants did not want to talk to the police.
He was taken to the police station, and
interviewed by plain-clothes detectives. They knew all about his overseas
trips. They had the hard evidence of his involvement.
They had not taken him in, as they wanted the big
fish.
They produced him before the court, and he was
given bail.
Weeks later, they took him to the police station,
showed him a familiar face through a one-way glass, and asked him to identify
him. He had no choice but to do so. They knew anyway.
The stern, lady judge looked down at him through
half-glasses, cleared her throat, and said:- “Young man, you have broken the
law. That is a crime. You have to be punished. The evidence produced before me
shows that there are others who are clearly the main culprits. They will get a
more severe punishment if they plead guilty or are found guilty. I would have
sentenced you to a term of imprisonment, but for your youth and your lack of
previous convictions. I have come to the conclusion, on hearing both
prosecution and defence, that in your case, a sentence of home detention is the
least restrictive outcome, considering the deterrence aspect, and the
mitigating factors. I hereby sentence you to a term of nine months home
detention, at your mother’s house, which has been found suitable by probation
for electronic monitoring. There will be the usual post-detention conditions.
Lastly, let me tell you this.a fool and his Ferrari are soon parted! You may
stand down!”
Kersie
Khambatta, a semi-retired lawyer in New Zealand, is a part-time
writer of articles and short-stories. His writing is recognizable by his
simple style, with short sentences and appropriate words. He has a diploma of
Associateship of the British Tutorial Institute, London,
in English, Modern Journalism, and Journalism in India,
and a Certificate in Comprehensive writing awarded by the Writing School
(Australia and New Zealand).
His pieces have appeared in publications in Canada,
New Zealand, U.S.A., India, and other countries.
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